Crissy

I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.

I’d told Nash that it had been a mistake, that I’d clearly been influenced by the overwhelming heat and passion between Griffon and Arya. I had pretended that it had meant absolutely nothing and that I was going to forget it immediately.

That was all a big fat lie.

It had been a month since Nash and I had fled Burton, running as though the devil was on our tails, even though the truth was that we were escaping from nothing but our own desire.

Or maybe it was just me. Maybe he had been truthful when he’d said that my kiss had been meaningless. He certainly hadn’t acted as though he’d thought about it even once in the thirty days since it had happened.

Unlike me, who lay in my lonely every night, unable to stop remembering it.

I’d never had a real love affair. I’d had amiable flings, a couple of one-night hook-ups, and some friends-with-benefits arrangements, but my entire focus and my life had been music—and then, after that fateful accident on the stage one night, it had been music and my life as the Slayer.

I hadn’t known unmitigated desire like this in my entire life, and I had no freakin’ idea what to do with it.

“Slayer.”

I jumped at the sound of Nash’s voice, turning my head to look at him. We were on the tour bus, heading to God knew where from yet another gig that I couldn’t even describe. They were all starting to run together because singing, the one passion I’d always had, was coming in second to being the Slayer—and to my stupid, idiotic preoccupation with that kiss.

“Um, what? Yes? What did you say?” I frowned at Nash, my eyes blinking rapidly. “Sorry. I was . . . thinking about something else.”

“Clearly.” His voice was dry. “I was just asking your thoughts about the Arya and Griffon situation.”

“What? What do you mean? What are you talking about? There’s no situation. I haven’t even thought of it since—” I managed to stop babbling to take a breath as Nash lifted one eyebrow.

“I asked specifically if you’d seen the message from Arya and Griffon.”

“Oh.” I reached for my phone. “No, I didn’t see anything.” Tapping the message app, I scanned the sentences on the screen. “Oh. So they’re getting married—that’s good. That’s what’s supposed to happen, yes?”

“Between them? It is.” Nash nodded. “But they have asked us to be there, to be their witnesses.”

“Ohhhh.” I bit my lip. “I think that’s a bad idea.”

I fully expected Nash to agree, so I was shocked when he sniffed and shook his head.

“This isn’t negotiable, Slayer. Not for me, anyway. Because they have made this official request, I’m obligated to attend their mating ceremony as an honored witness.” He paused for a beat. “You, of course, are under no such obligation, but it would be looked upon as a tremendous insult to refuse.”

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath. “The last thing I need is go back to Burton and be around those two. Their stupid pheromones make me do dumb things.”

Nash blinked at me slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but as I said, you are welcome to tell them you’re not coming.” He shrugged. “But you’ll have to stay somewhere safe while I’m gone. Given the current dangers, it would be unwise for you to be on stage without me nearby.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I argued. “I can take care of myself.”

He didn’t respond, just gazed at me with that annoyingly calm expression on his dumb sexy face.

I rolled my eyes. “Their ceremony is in ten days. We can’t change around my schedule at this late date.”

“You added that gig Hilton Head, remember? We’ll only be a few hours from Burton after that, and you have a full five days off before your next engagement. It would be easy to make the trip.”

Silently, I cursed my manager for slipping in that extra date and myself for agreeing to do it.

“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What exactly is involved in this mating ceremony?” I reared back. “Oh, wait. We don’t actually have to witness them  . . . mating, do we?”

Nash’s lips twitched. “That’s a bridge too far for you, is it, Slayer?” He snorted. “Don’t worry. It’s just a simple binding ritual where they pledge their fidelity and faith. Anything else happens between the two of them alone.”

“Okay. Good.” I fidgeted. “And it doesn’t require anything between you and me as the witnesses, does it?”

He tilted his head, regarding me with sardonic interest. “Anything like . . . what, Slayer?” He leaned a little closer. “A kiss? Is that what you’re afraid of?”

I shrunk back, my actions belying my words. “I’m not afraid of anything. Especially not you.”

Nash stared at me for a long, heated moment, his eyes flaring with something that lit a spark deep inside me. I sat on my hands to keep my errant fingers from reaching up to touch his scruff-covered cheek and held my breath so that I couldn’t absorb his intoxicating scent.

Bad Slayer. Behave yourself.

He chuckled, the sound almost rusty. “As you say, Slayer. As you say.” He stood up, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief, assuming he was about to retire to his own space on the bus. But then he turned abruptly and leaned over me, his muscled arms caging me in my seat.

“If you think you’re the only one who remembers, Slayer . . . you’d be very wrong.”

And then he was gone, leaving me as I sat in stunned silence.

Alone.

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